The Charge of the Miracle Person
by Katkero
Summary: Crocodile and Daz visit good old Ivankov on Revolutionary business, but Ivankov is far more interested in the kind of shipping that has nothing to do with seafaring. Yes slash.


This is an oldish fic that I only had on a site that doesn't exist anymore; I figured since the writing unexpectedly didn't burn my eyes on revisiting, I might as well put it here. Contains some fan theories about Crocodile's past that have yet to be debunked by canon, as far as I know. (Wonder when we get to see Croc and Daz again, anyway?)

* * *

The island, in its fabulousness, had been visible long before they got anywhere near it. Some of the more talkative members of Crocodile's crew discussed the pink mist amongst themselves, wondering about the fabled okama population. Crocodile could have told them some things about Ivankov and his 'candy boys', but why spoil a perfectly good surprise? He could already see a group of them gathered by the shore with a much larger figure, and what a sight they were. He would have to remember to ask Ivankov why every single one of them had to have such a huge face.

"Croco-booooy! Vyou finally decided to come and try on the dress I promised vyou?" ululated the most huge-faced okama of them all as their ship drew close. Crocodile chewed on his cigar. Of course he was going to be like that again.

The latest addition to the crew gasped loudly with zeal far more appropriate for a rookie than a man who was already sailing the unpredictable seas of the New World. "How dare you speak to the Captain like that? He's a _man's man_!"

Ivankov's poker face was really something to behold. He seemed to regard this statement with seriousness Crocodile himself couldn't be bothered with, and nodded. "Indeed. That he is."

"I wasn't aware you were capable of subtlety," said Crocodile, not altogether unpleasantly surprised, and jumped off the ship without waiting for it to stop. Any reason to dislike the king... queen of the island less would be gladly accepted, if only to make the visit go smoother and therefore faster. To speed things up with all he could, Crocodile started marching towards the abomination of a palace that Ivankov apparently held court in, Daz striding in tow with a small but important container. The rest of the squealing island population stayed to keep company for his crew. Let them take the opportunity to satisfy their curiosity now, then.

"Is that a rare compliment from vyou, Croco-boy? Such kindness suits vyou - much like that dress vould!"

"You keep your cheap little dishrags away from my nice suit and I'll keep my hook out of your skull," Crocodile said, disappointed - but this time not surprised - to find his rarely awakened goodwill drained away so soon already.

Ivankov tutted at him like a nanny at an ill-behaved child. The effect was nothing short of nightmarish. "Then I just might be forced to reveal vyour precious veakness vith my dying breath. Hee-haw!"

"Who to?" Crocodile stopped walking to better concentrate his considerable talent for not giving a damn, honestly, into one baleful glare of indifference. "Daz? He already knows."

This statement seemed to be of great interest to Ivankov. "Is that right, Croco-boy? Vyou've finally bared vyour soul to someone?"

"Will you just get on with the meeting? I'm starting to think this 'revolutionary business' was just your excuse for wasting my time."

"Fine, fine," sighed the great okama queen, "but first I shall have to go prepare the palace for visitors, make it more tolerable for vyou. Vyou never did appreciate pink, did vyou?"

Anger forced Crocodile's eyes wide open. Of _course_ that bastard had to waste his time when he knew Crocodile could have used it for much more pleasant activities. "I _am_ going to kill you."

"I shall be but a minute!"

"Die!"

"Oh, don't be that vay!" Dodging quite a serious attempt at his life as delivered by Crocodile's formidable left hook, Ivankov scampered on to his palace. "Vhy don't vyou two talk about vyour veakness vhile vyou vait!"

Blinking furiously at the barrage of bizarre accent just levelled at him, Crocodile nevertheless attempted to take control of his temper. "The whole _palace_ is pink," he groaned as rage made way for barely suppressed agony. Had Crocodile been religious, he would have suspected some cruel god of creating personalities like Ivankov's for the sole purpose of winding him up. Some part of it made sense, though; pathetic weaklings could defeat him in neither fair nor unfair combat, so they would have to resort to creative means like giving him an aneurysm. Well, they wouldn't have the satisfaction today.

"It's not the water one, is it?"

"Ah?"

"That thing he was talking about," Daz said, and the way he avoided referring to the weakness by name actually managed to touch something cold and buried in Crocodile. Well _damn_.

"No," he said and felt another not wholly uncomfortable stirring in that forcibly entombed part of himself when Daz didn't press the issue. Gratitude, probably - he'd have to do something to repay the man later.

After an unreasonably long time spent staring at the pink island and wondering if his power could be used to drain the offending colour from the poor innocent sand, Crocodile finally saw Ivankov emerge from a cloud of mauve and lilac that passed for foliage there. Well, that at least was good. Had the okama king, queen, both or neither, sent someone else to fetch his guests on his behalf, Crocodile wasn't sure he would have been able to refrain from doing some invasive landscaping on the faces of both the island and its owner.

"All done!" cried Ivankov with as much gusto as ever, but in some vague way his tone sounded hollow. Disappointed, perhaps, but why the hell would he... "Come on in, and no glaring at my delicate candies."

"I don't give a damn about your candies as long as we can do the business we're here for," Crocodile grumbled. The palace already loomed over them and he couldn't help wondering what terrors inside Ivankov thought would pass for tolerable for Crocodile. "I give you information to pass on to him, you give us what we need in turn, we leave."

"I'm sure _he_ vill be grateful for the assistance," Ivankov chuckled.

"And tell him to stop treating me like his personal New World informant while you're at it. If anyone else asked me to come back down like it's a swim in a pool..." Crocodile scowled, swatting at his own cigar smoke like he would at an annoying insect. "Well, just give me a personal snail with a straight line to him or something."

"I'll see vhat I can do." The doors to the palace were opened by two guards. They politely stayed outside as Ivankov strode in with his guests.

White cloth over the walls, covering most of the pinkness. This was seriously Ivankov's idea of... well, there _was_ some sort of golden ornamental pattern at the bottom of the curtains that Crocodile actually liked, but he couldn't see how he'd had to wait so long for something like this when he could've just endured the original decorations. He didn't mind saying this to Ivankov either, only with an insulting tone added for no extra charge.

Ivankov shook his massive head, and for a brief moment Crocodile wondered what he put in his hair to make it stay that still. Perhaps the substance could be weaponised. "Rude as alvays! Is there truly not even the tiniest maiden's heart hiding under all that poison, Croco-boy?"

For once Crocodile gave his words some serious thought, stroking his hook. "I think the closest I ever came to having a maiden's heart was when I backstabbed Miss All Sunday. That one hit pretty close."

"Didn't she survive?" Daz asked, breaking his long silence.

Crocodile shrugged. "Dragon can thank me for the favour later."

Crocodile often smiled when he wasn't really amused and Daz often frowned when he wasn't in a bad mood. There was an equilibrium of sorts there. Now, however, their features briefly softened into something resembling true amusement. They both knew Crocodile's heart was even blacker than his lungs, anyway.

With as grand a swing as he could manage with his disproportionately short arm, Ivankov welcomed them into the throne room where Inazuma was already waiting for them. Crocodile gestured for Daz to go before him. He gave the wall curtains one more close look; might as well use them for stalling since that was what they were there for. "I'm asking seriously now. Why did you even bother with these?"

Ivankov's face, greatly aided by an impenetrable layer of make-up, remained expressionless. "Vhatever do vyou mean?"

"I mean all this looks like something you hastily threw together to excuse having us wait on the beach. You didn't have that spot bugged, did you?"

Ivankov said nothing.

"I can certainly understand Dragon and you not trusting me, but what did you expect to hear?" Crocodile went on with an exasperated sigh. "Do you think I've somehow become less careful in the New World?"

''Still not letting anyone close, Croco-boy?" Ivankov asked, uncharacteristically solemn.

"...what?" Crocodile spat, far too quickly for someone who claimed to value carefulness. But the okama queen stayed quiet, watching him; unable to get past the mask of make-up and years of subterfuge, Crocodile couldn't read his secrets. If anything, he felt like Ivankov was about to grasp one of his again. "Just concentrate on this meeting. Just... read the gossip section of the newspaper when we're done."

"Fine, fine... show us vhat vyou've found, then."

For all of Ivankov's attempts at prolonging Crocodile's stay on the island, the meeting itself was pleasantly short and to the point, in no small part thanks to Inazuma's rational presence. Information changed hands without a hitch and this time Ivankov didn't even mention getting Dragon on one of their long-distance snails. He did point out that night was falling, though, and that such rare guests would be more than welcome to stay on the island. Out of pure sadism, Crocodile sent Daz back to the ship to inform the unsuspecting crew of this fact while he went off to find a peaceful place to stretch his legs. All the maidens seemed to be at the beach anyway, considering that he didn't run into a single one on his way through the garden. He could see a calm spot overlooking the sea that he wanted to get to.

Eventually it started to rain and like the inhabitants of the island, it was at once simperingly gentle and terrifyingly forceful. Also, pink. Looking at his suit, however, Crocodile saw to his relief that the water merely reflected the overwhelming colour of its surroundings and wasn't actually ruining the exquisite fabric. There was no reason not to enjoy a bit of rain when he was unlikely to be attacked; for once not preoccupied with his weakness, he breathed in the clear air and turned his eyes to the horizon.

And of course someone else was coming just as he had started to relax. Not bothering to turn around, he listened to the rhythm of the footsteps and hoped for the best. Fortunately, the gait soon turned out to be familiar. _Ah, Daz... never mind then._ "So how did they react?"

"Well, Burton was already wearing a dress when I got there." Daz went to stand beside Crocodile, glancing at the sea as well. "Puffy, with ruffles."

Crocodile knew he would regret it later, but there was something about the matter-of-fact way that Daz said it... something about the tension before the meeting and wondering if Ivankov had another advantage over him suddenly coming to a head with such an unexpected image that Crocodile couldn't help it. His eyes widened as he understood what was coming; he coughed, unused to the motions, and burst into his first genuine laughter in what had to actually be years rather than just feeling like it. The rhythm was faster, less out of his control. Amazing.

" _Him_? I can't even imagine... he's so _stern_." Crocodile's shoulders shook helplessly, and for once surrendering to an emotion didn't leave him feeling exposed and vaguely disappointed in himself. "Glad to hear he's making new friends," he managed.

Daz, for his part, maintained a respectful distance to allow his captain to deal with these apparently fresh and wonderful feelings. "He seemed to be enjoying himself."

"Must be the island getting to him." Crocodile put a hand over his mouth, riding out the last of the wave. "To me too, it seems." He turned to look at Daz at last and wiped the remaining laughter off the corners of his mouth. "You won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not."

"Captain's reputation and all." Looking around, Crocodile saw a tree that probably had enough leaves to let him light a cigar under it. He really needed a smoke after that. Daz saw what he was doing and followed him, lighter ready.

As the rain fell through the gaps in the leaves and punched quick, soon refilled holes in his cloud of smoke, Crocodile wondered if Ivankov could possibly have the whole island bugged. He would need a ridiculous amount of snails to do that, wouldn't he? Then again, he was not going to talk about anything the ruler of the island didn't already know, and there was the fact that he was of some use to the revolutionary movement and not in any great danger from them, and he and Daz wouldn't necessarily be able to have a peaceful chat on the ship in a long time...

He looked up, frustrated. No snails in sight at least. He glanced at the man standing quietly by his side, still hesitating. Here he was vulnerable to his weakness against water and Daz would be able to puncture him ten times over quite easily if he could catch Crocodile by surprise. He probably could by now, truth be told.

"The one that isn't about water..." he started, quickly so he wouldn't be able to stop and change the topic at the last moment. Why did it feel so ridiculous when he was about to say it and so enormous when it stayed hidden? "There's not that much to it, I suppose, but that garish old bastard will never let me forget it as long as I live."

When Crocodile took his time continuing, Daz decided to take a risk and poke at the silence a little. "Dragon?"

Crocodile grinned. "See, that's why you're my first mate." Yes, trust Daz to understand things with his own brain unlike so many other physically strong people he had worked with. It really made for quite a refreshing change that someone in his life didn't have just a skullful of dead meat in their head. "I met him in my rookie years. He had already seen many islands like the one I came from." He had been remarkable even then, Crocodile thought. "And he went on and on about the way he thought the world should change, so there wouldn't be islands like mine anymore."

Daz nodded at the second silence that followed. "I noticed the wings in our Jolly Roger resembled those of the Revolutionary Army."

This time Crocodile's grin wasn't quite as happy. "I've never believed the world can change. But because it was he who asked..." He gestured the rest of the sentence away.

"Well, that I can relate to."

"He accepted and loved every disadvantaged and downtrodden person he met on the islands he visited. All those people were important to him, no one above anyone else. Before I understood that, I made an idiot of myself and that was that." The rain fell sparser now. Crocodile stuck his hand out to test it. "Such a little thing, but I don't want anyone else knowing it." Just Dragon because he had been a part of it, Ivankov because it hadn't escaped his notice, and now Daz because Crocodile had chosen to show a bit of trust in him. "It wouldn't make much difference to him or the rest of the Revolutionary Army, but it could be... _has_ been used against me."

"Ivankov knows well what he's threatening to reveal." Daz somehow managed to express hostility with his monotone.

"Can you imagine Straw Hat hearing of it? I'd have to kill him and then what would I say to his father?"

There was one of those almost-smiles pulling at the corners of Daz's mouth that he would keep carefully smoothed away when anyone else was looking. His silence stretched away across several seconds, then minutes, and Crocodile saw no need to interrupt it.

"As for me," Daz said when he was ready, "I followed a man into hell on earth just because I believed in him. I'd never thought that a sufficient reason before."

Crocodile shifted, turning his eyes to the sea again. "You know I see most people I meet the same way and there's no reason not to," he said, for once in his life at least trying to speak in a straightforward manner. "I have little... love for people in general."

Daz's hand was close enough to his that he could feel the warmth radiating from it. Daz could easily cut him, one way or another, but didn't. Whatever Crocodile had been about to say next dissolved and was forgotten in the knowledge that he had already been understood.

"How can it be so hard to do, Croco-booooy! Hee-haw! Just _kiss_ him already or something, anything but this standing around so... _coyly_!" Ivankov's gargantuan form issued forth from between some rocks and Crocodile was too stunned by this outburst to even wonder how someone of his size could hide there. Hell, he was too stunned to be _angry_.

"...what, after you obliterated the atmosphere?"

"Forget about the atmosphere! Vyou can recreate that in vyour own time!" Ivankov shrieked. "This is for vyour own good, vyou know. I've given vyou ample time to admit vyour true hearts to each other and vyou can't even _touch_! At least hold his hand, vyou oaf!"

"How about I offer _you_ my left hand instead?" Crocodile growled, voice like a winter island, and raised his hook. "Or, by all means, go back to your hole in the ground and maybe we can get on with it when we don't have to look at you anymore."

Ivankov's frustration deflated immediately. "Vyou vouldn't mind, Croco-boy?"

"Of course I would mind, you unbelievably thick bastard!" exploded Crocodile, temper revived. There just had to be a pebble-sized brain in that boulder-sized head. "Have you no sense of sarcasm?"

"Nope! Hee-haw!"

"The gossip section is calling, Ivankov. No need to worry about subtlety there." With a blistering glare at the okama queen, Crocodile motioned for Daz to follow him and stalked off in the general direction of the palace. "And this is what he uses his skills and resources for," he muttered at his once again serious first mate.

"Vyou can stay in one of my suites, candies! Extra sveet for lovers!" cackled Ivankov, his job done.

Crocodile sighed cigar smoke into the still warm air. He actually was tempted to sleep somewhere that wasn't on open sea. "I suppose I shouldn't pay him any attention."

Daz grunted, already not letting the situation bother him. They glanced at each other. Something reconnected; Crocodile coughed out something that could have been a laugh, pulled his back straight and started to walk in his normal, confident pace, Daz by his side.


End file.
